


Life

by NinaFey



Category: Man of Steel (2013), Superman (Comics)
Genre: Daily Planet, F/M, Lois Lane's love affair with journalism, growing relationship, lex luthor - Freeform, what can I say Lois and Clark are my definitive OTP
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-31
Updated: 2013-09-08
Packaged: 2017-12-21 23:07:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/906039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NinaFey/pseuds/NinaFey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dealing with life after the catastrophe. Picking up the threads of a new life; Lois and Clark adapt to their changed lives as the world watches Superman. It's getting through the worse that counts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The bathroom floor was covered in cold water, Lois would have to be careful not to slip. She to admit that she had gone overboard when taking a shower, even a cold one at that. It was extraordinary to feel water falling on her body instead of pouring over herself and not to mention how much easier it was than carrying gallons of water all the way up to her apartment. All in all Lois had been one of the lucky ones; she was reminded of that fact every time she looked out her window. A little over a mile away there had been some serious damage, part of the gravitational shifting of the world engine. There were still signs of where sidewalks, street lamps and buildings had either been bent or squashed by the shifting gravity. And the exact place where the shipped had been lodged, well…it looked like a goddamn a-bomb had been dropped on it. To think if Clark hadn’t stopped the World Engine...hell if Clark hadn’t been Clark, there would be nothing and no one left. 

Her hair was dripping all over the bathroom rug as she examined herself in the full length mirror. Her cuts and bruises had almost healed. Some of them had gone unnoticed, like the ones in her lower back. They were only pointed out to her when Perry insisted that at least the medic tending to Jenny’s broken leg take a look at her, just to be safe. Nothing ice couldn’t fix. The same couldn’t be said for Clark, every night she would revisit that day but the most piercing image among all the wreckage was Metropolis Central. There he was, on his knees and letting out a tearful and painful scream. He knew full well that the man lying dead next to him was the last of his people and he died at his hand. Clark had chosen Earth and humanity and for it he paid a terrible price. From the very instant they met he had always managed to pull some emotion from the back of her being but that time was different. That time she felt her own heart had been ripped out and she did the only thing she could do; hold him. Lois stroked his hair and repeated the words “it’s OK” as he held on to her in tears. 

She reached for her towel and wrapped around herself. It was late she realized, probably past midnight. Lois reached for her laptop, which would probably die within the hour, and immediately played some music. A selection of Johnny Cash’s finest to White Snake’s worst; she just needed some noise. Metropolis had been eerily quiet and she had never been a fan silence. It reminded her of quiet nights at Palestine while covering a particularly harsh weeks of back and forth bombings. Silence made it impossible for her to sleep; she was always waiting for a loud crash or explosion. It meant the absence of life sometimes and a lot of times, it also meant that things could always get worse. This wasn’t the case for Metropolis, that’s what she kept telling herself. The mute city was a sign of mourning not of fear. But whatever the type of silence that lingered in the air, she hated it.   
At times like these she wished she still smoked but she settled for cheap custard cream cookies. With one stuck in her mouth she pulled one of the few clean shirts she had left. It was an old brown shirt she had been given at a military base once when her rucksack had been ‘misplaced’. 

“Still not as good as a smoke.” She muttered to herself after she had swallowed the last of a cookie. There was a knock on her door. Lois knew that she had told Jenny that her door was always open but she was pant-less at the moment and she had planned to remain that way for at least a few hours. She rushed to find a pair of shorts or boxers and opened the door tying her hair into a messy and wet bun. Standing outside her door Lois found a familiar yet wholly unexpected frame. “Not Jenny.” was all she could think as she drank in the sight of Clark. He was dressed the same way as that time they met at the Smallville cemetery. He was wearing a baseball cap that obscured his features, even this late at night. A tired smile greeted Lois, along with decent sized pizza box. As if he needed bribery to get in. She let him in without saying a word but returned his smile; she could see he was grateful for that. Lois was sure that her eyes had brightened and she had already bitten her lip at least 3 times. 

“I’m sorry. It’s late…” He began apologizing but Lois quickly cut him off with a quick kiss. She stood on her toes and hugged him. 

“Clark, it’s fine. Really.” Lois wiped the part of his face that her wet hair had brushed. 

“The pizza is cold. I’m so…” He stopped himself before he apologized again. A resigned smile escaped his lips as Lois guided him to her couch. He removed his cap and rubbed his eyes. 

“Heat vision?” Lois asked as she set the pizza box on the coffee table. 

“No, I’m just tired. That’s a good name for it though. Heat vision.” Clark laughed lightly. He did look tired. Too tired, she’d say. All week Lois had heard that people had seen flashes of Superman’s cape. Coming and going. TV reporters catching glimpses of him. He never stopped to give an exclusive. All stories about him were second hand. Witnesses even placed Superman at two places at once; 2 o’clock on Monday he was seen welding beams together and diving into rubble emerging with three other people. Firemen and rescue workers loved him. There weren’t enough praises about him. But Lois’s favourite ones were those accounts that mentioned little things. Things that made Clark, not Superman, shine; when he flew in carrying enough water for everyone at 47th street. Or when he told a little girl how brave she had been over and over again as he rushed her to the medics waiting for her. But the Clark that was now sitting on her couch looked a lot like the Clark of Metropolis Central. 

“This is just…this is just horrible.” He glanced at her, not even asking for mercy or understanding. Clark knew he was very close to tearing up again. Everything he had seen over the matter of days, all the lifeless bodies, the injured, people who were left homeless. Everything hurt. How could he ever fix this? She reached for his hand but before she could say anything he blurted out “All of this. It’s my fault.” 

“Clark, no. Listen to me.” Lois’s voice was drenched in authority. “You didn’t ask for this. None of this is your fault. All you did is search for answers to questions you had your entire life. I would have done the same. Hell, I did the same for a story.” From where she was sitting she could hear his heavy breathing and the knot that was forming in his throat.   
“But if I hadn’t…” 

“No. Don’t do this to yourself. It’s hard enough as it is.” She tightened her grip around his hand and met his eyes. “You…we have to keep going. It’s what we do. If we didn’t what kind of world would this be?” He nodded in agreement and suddenly found his forehead resting on the nook of Lois’s neck. He hadn’t registered how she had managed to pull him closer but he didn’t care. It was what he needed. 

“Do you know why I didn’t leave Metropolis after that day?” She asked him, her heart beating a little faster. Many people fled for a variety of reasons, but some left thinking it would happen again or that the city was broken beyond repair and there was no point in staying. 

“No.” He replied quietly. Lois could feel his breathing slowly becoming lighter against her neck.   
“I don’t want to give up on it. I can’t just pack up and leave when things get tough. I need to stay, I have to. And I suspect that’s why you haven’t slept in a week trying to piece it back together.” Lois ran a hand through his thick black hair. “And I also stay because Perry would track my ass to Bangladesh if I walked.” 

“I’d help him.” Clark chuckled. 

“Now about that pizza.” Lois said as they broke away and she eagerly opened the pizza box. 

“Sure you wanna eat it cold?”- He gave her an apologetic look.

“Yeah. That way I don’t burn the roof of my mouth with cheese from the pits of hell.” Clark lay back on her couch with a slice. He gulfed it down and instinctively placed his hand on Lois’s. In between slices she told him about that time when she was assigned to cover a concert back in college and ended up turning into a piece about the appalling mistreatment of staff at that club. She could go on forever and he would listen forever; her spark ten folded when she spoke about her work. His eyes shifted between open and closed; his body felt heavier by the second. He could no longer make out Lois’s words but her voice was soothing; soothing enough to finally let himself rest for a night.


	2. Fries and Ships

Her feet were dangling over the ledge of her building; she liked looking over at the city but would never admit to being afraid of looking down. Lois thought it was ridiculous for her, a woman who had fallen off a spaceship and cargo plane, to still get a bit dizzy when looking down at the pavement from her rooftop. Clark’s cape lay underneath her and he sat next to her, overlooking the city. He looked as though he kept reminding himself that it was fine to just sit there with her. Alertness always covered his features, always waiting for a cry or a call for help. But this never meant that he wasn’t invested in their conversations. And whenever he did have to go his face assured her that he was sorry to leave her and that he would get back as soon as he possibly could.

Lois thought it strange how normal it seemed to her to be on her rooftop, laughing with a man from another world. Nothing about it seemed out of place to her, not the cape or the man wearing it, and especially not the fries they were sharing. Fries were one of the few dishes she could share with him and honestly enjoy. Clark had been a vegetarian since he was eight, she had learned. His explanation might make him sound like a new wave child raised on Hare Krishna; he was able to sense and see every living thing’s energy. He avoided the word ‘aura’, she realized, to avoid sounding well..like a new wave child raised on Hare Krishna. As a journalist it was her job to write other people’s stories, what they had seen with their own eyes and what they felt at that moment and on occasion what she felt at any given moment but it wasn’t until Clark revealed this particular ability did she wish she could truly see the world with someone else’s eyes. Lois was very tempted to ask what her energy looked like but she guessed it would be like trying to describe colors to the blind.

All these things circled in her mind as they exchanged stories. Clark made it seem that her spoken word was just as strong as her written one and he was quickly becoming her favourite audience [and reader, she suspected].

“I thought we would never get out of that jungle. Swore it would be the last time we followed paramilitary forces into a place where snakes could fall on you at any moment.” – She took a bite out of her fry as she finished telling him about that one time she and two photojournalists spent some “quality” time in the Colombian rainforest.

“And you say that like ‘and that’s the last time I ever ate at that burger joint.’ That’s amazing.” Clark told her with an immodest amount of admiration in his voice.

“Well that’s my job, Smallville.” Her tone was an odd mixture of flirtatious and snarky. Most of the time it wasn’t deliberate, but just sometimes she managed to pull it off on command. Like this one. Lois was very aware that Clark enjoyed her teases and had taken kindly to his new nickname. It was probably the first one he ever liked.

“You’re unbelievable. “ Clark shook his head with a resigned smile; his mood was getting brighter by the day. It was these shy smiles that often curled in her lips that made Lois see the Kansas farm boy inside the suit. She had grown accustomed to his face and the hints of his character etched in his features. Lois liked predicting just when he was about to laugh or close his eyes to listen to the city sounds. In fact, it was her new favorite thing.

“How did you know that’s what you were meant to do?” Clark stole a fry away from her not before lightly rubbing his hand on hers.

“ I always had a knack for getting in trouble. Might as well do it for a living.” She sounded almost dismissive, as if she had never given it much thought.

“ Lois, I’m serious.” He had that look on his face, a quiet and friendly plead. Pushing was not in his nature but there was something about him that just made her want to sing.

“ I guess it was always in me. And by that I mean stubbornness. Growing up a military brat I did a lot of head butting with my dad.”

“Oh?” He looked worried about touching on a sensitive topic.

“A good thing though. No daddy issues to worry about, Smallville.” Lois reassured him in a way only she could, with a hint dry warmth. “There were a lot of things that pissed me off up growing up with just him and my sister in the house. Being dragged from place to place. And I didn’t always agree with his stance. Made me develop my own sense of morality in a way.” She took a sip of the store bought iced tea she had next to her. “ But there was this one argument he always used that angered me to my bones; ‘just trust me on this one’. That’s what he always said when I asked too many questions. “

“So naturally that made you look harder.” His relaxed brow as he completed her train of thought.

“Yeah that’s how I discovered Santa wasn’t real at 4.” This earned her a loud laugh followed by a kiss. One she immediately returned and without realizing it more than a few minutes had passed. Lois could swear her ability to go without air was superhuman when it came to kissing Clark.

* * *

  
Clark hovered over Lois’s building, taking one last look at her. She groaned that she needed to get back to the Planet but he knew she was saying it more for him than for her, to make it easier for him to leave her. Besides, he hardly believed she hated the idea of heading back to work. With a quick impulse he took off for the docks.  
It never got any easier; looking one last time at Lois had become a ritual. On the ledge she would stand and mockingly “shoo” him off, followed by some whispers only he would be able to hear. They had rituals, it hit him. For the first time he had some sort of shared routine with someone, and not just anyone, Lois. And that felt good, great in fact. Somehow she had always been completely unfazed by the suit, as if every other person in the world owned a cape. Her snark and stubbornness still held; nothing about her had changed. For someone whose life was changing at titanic-like steps he loved knowing that he was still Clark Kent to her.

He arrived at the docks faster than the image of Lois’s tanning cheeks could fade away from his thoughts. Clark had promised to help remove collapsed buildings and ships from the river. Without his help it would take weeks and could possibly endanger workers. And that to him was unacceptable.

“Right on time.” He heard the project manager mutter to herself. She waved at him from afar, her aviators reflecting the sun.

“Afternoon, Superman.” She shook his hand and he had to hide just how much his new name threw him off.

“ Afternoon Ms. Tate. Tell me where do we start?”

“ I’m gonna give you a quick rundown. Basically, we need to compress the wrecked ships into the smallest shape you can and put them on that container hooked to that tug boat.” She pointed at the tug ‘boat’; tug ship was more like it. “ There is nothing special about the rubble. Just pile as much as you can on the boat to the left.” Ms. Tate picked up her walkie talkie “Nelson, how are we doing?” She excused herself with signs and with a nod Clark agreed to get to work.

He dove into the not-too-clean- river, his cape suspended above his head. Even when completely soaked his suit was remarkably comfortable. He swam towards the underwater ruins, with no rush. Clark approached his task as patiently as he could; there was no point in going faster than necessary. He focused on the sounds of the river, the small fish swimming around him, and his own hands bending metal. For a few minutes there was the sort of peace that comes with absent mindedness but it didn’t last long.

Thoughts that lingered on guilt were unavoidable as metal was melted and rubble lifted. He wasn’t too sure how a knife in the gut might feel but this was as close as it got. Every day he witnessed the destruction he and Zod had caused. Everywhere he looked there were small and large reminders of the devastation that was. One day it was a kid with a broken arm and the next day it was sunken ships and collapsed buildings. How could anyone do this?

How did Lois do it? Keep going after all she had seen? She had been to more war zones than she could count and even sported a bullet wound of her own along couple of old fractures. Giving up never crossed her mind, Clark knew that. That resilience was painted all over her; from the way she moved to the way her eyes shined whenever she spoke. Maybe she had developed a tough skin but there was something very alive and sensitive in her. He could see it; fire surrounded her at all times, dancing energetically even she lay on the couch going over her notes. In a time when he had seen Kryptonian ships and watched the world’s gravity shift, that fire was the most amazing thing he ever saw. If Lois kept going, then so must he.


	3. Chapter 3

It was a hot day, hot and humid. The kind of days she hated. Her clothes would stick to her sweaty back and her usual orange and cream popsicle had melted in her hand. She cursed a thousand gods for the way her hair puffed up. And almost ranted to Jenny how people just couldn’t get iced tea right. And still Lois had this horrible feeling that things were not going to get better. Starting at the stuffiness of the Planet and ending with a look she recognized in Perry’s eyes. “Shit. It’s way too damn hot for this.” as all she could think as she settled what was left of her lunch on her desk.

“Lois, Pe..” Jenny began with a somewhat apologetic look. In a lot of way she was much more her intern than she was Perry’s.

“Wants to see me, I know.” She said loudly blowing air through her nose. A reassuring hand was placed on Jenny’s shoulder; Lois was very much aware that she hated to appear as if she was nagging her.  “Make sure Lombard  doesn’t eat what’s left of my tacos.” Lois gave her a modest and barely visible smile before heading off to the editor’s office.

“Whatever you’re going to say. Just no.” Lois told her editor without even closing the door first. “You look like you just came from upstairs and whatever it is, **_no_**.”

“Lois, listen to me first. You’re not going to like it; _I_ don’t like it. But you have to at least hear me out.” He rubbed his eyes as she shut the door not too quietly.

“Fine.” She stuck her tongue in her cheek and quite literally bit it.

“Upstairs found out about you sniffing around Lexcorp’s construction deals and charities “dedicated” to the “rebuilding” of Metropolis. Whatever you have; they want you to drop it.” Perry’s tone made it very clear that his hands were tied.

“Like it’s my fault that Dagget used to do coke lines in the 80s with Luthor or share bunk beds with him at boarding school.” At this point of the day she was almost seeing red. It wasn’t his fault, she knew. But she had been trying to get Luthor on SOMETHING for years. Now that she finally could be really on to something the Planet’s publisher wants her to drop it. Must be in the corporate snake rule book to cover each other’s asses.  He was a regular Patrick Bateman, minus all the serial murders.

“Lois this isn’t final. The Planet will be absorbed by Wayne Enterprises sometime soon…”

“So you just want me to wait til then? And what makes you think this Wayne guy will be any different?!” Her neck was tightening and she could feel her face burning with anger.

“I’m not saying he will. I’m saying this isn’t over. “ He looked about ready to offer her a drink. “Lois, we both hate having Dagget up our asses. It’s just a matter of time, plus Luthor’s porcerlain smile has half of the world fooled.” Perry knew that the city wouldn’t take too kindly to them trying to expose Metropolis’s billionaire “savior” for what he really was.

She sighed heavily and crossed her arms. “What am I supposed to write then?”  Lois could still feel fire burning inside.

“There’s a certain interview people are begging for. But you say you won’t even ask.” He placed his reading glasses tightly against the bridge of his nose. After literally chasing down the man, Lois quite unexpectedly rejected any suggestions to publish an interview with Superman.  He couldn’t exactly read his best reporter so well to determine a possible causality. Assuming was never wise when it came to Lois.

“ I’ll write about what happened up there. My experience” She said matter-of-factly. This was a compromise she was offering. “I think people are ready to read it.” Truth be told, like much of Metropolis she was still processing. Usually she would write a thousand words and clever title to go with them but this had been radically different.  If she was still having nightmares of falling from space or an alien probe being stuck to her veins, she was sure the rest of the city wouldn’t welcome her tale. It would be a slap to the face to all the victims. Lois knew that Clark’s side of the story needed to be heard soon but it had to come from him. For the second time in her career, Lois had been holding back.

“Finally.” He was relieved. “I want it in my inbox by Friday.”

“OK, chief.”  Lois walked away with her body tense with anger.

“And rethink doing that interview.” He said, almost cheating at verbal sparring.  Lois paused for a second and cracked her knuckles on her way out.

* * *

 

This piece had to be done in all-nighter, or that was the excuse she used every time she was about to meet a deadline. It had to be written with about 3 doughnuts and immeasurable amount of caffeine in her system. And probably swearing. Lots of swearing. This was the rare story she didn’t know how to approach. It had no clear beginning and an end that had a hint of bitterness. But like every story she wrote, it wasn’t just about her. It was about humanity, except this time her account would hit a nerve with everyone on Earth. By all means, it was her biggest article yet.  She was balancing off her chair pretending sentences were already being put together in her mind.  A thousand rewrites of her first sentence later she was finally getting somewhere.

The reader was supposed to feel her fear and her belief in Superman, leaving out all the meaningful glances she and Clark had shared, the hand holding and their ‘we cheated death’ kiss. Lois wrote of her pulsating heart as she shared a cockpit with Colonel Hardy in what would become a kamikaze attack on the Kryptonian vessel. The reader would know how the colonel who had once refused to shake her hand later became her fellow soldier. Zod’s hatred jumped out of the page. For a while it seemed her piece was too grim to publish but she managed to have her faith in humanity and Superman shine through. In the end it read more like a confession, more like a journal than a news story. It was raw and tough to swallow at times but it was the unedited truth. And she hoped the city of Metropolis recognized that.  A quick glance at the screen told her it was almost 6 a.m. All-nighters truly got the best of her.

Without too much thought Lois tuned into an early morning show, one she liked to call “ _Bullshit! with Gordon Godfrey”._ She watched it for two reasons; Gordon Godfrey was a good compass for where the ignorant stood and she liked to shout at TV every once in a while.

**“What do we know about this Superman character? First off..what a name to give himself.” – Lois snorted. Five minutes of air time and he was already blurting out incorrect information. Godfrey was dressed especially sharp for a morning show. His blonde hair piece looked particularly fake in that yellow lighting.**

**“I hear you Godfrey. I mean, he comes in this blue suit and red cape and pretending to be hero. It’s depressing to think that people look up to this guy, and freaks like “The Bat” of Gotham, who act outside the law might I add, instead of I don’t know…” That was Carl Thomas, bigotry incarnated with access to public television.**

**“Lex Luthor. A man rebuilding the city of tomorrow and cleaning this _alien’s_ destruction.” He readjusted his tie with smug expression.**

**“** You have got to be shitting me.” She said to her screen. “No one can be this stupid… _this is just evil._  Ugh.” Usually Lois would watch a couple of more minutes to understand the logic behind their argument. Not this time, she promptly shut off her TV. It was bad enough she was caught investigating Luthor; she was not about to hear him praised to taint Superman’s image.  Her relationship with Clark would just make the whole segment hit her harder and she really had to get at least an hour of sleep before heading to work.

**\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Clark hovered over the old wooden floor as he quietly helped himself to a banana. He knew too well how much it creaked and how it easily it would wake up one Martha Kent. It was early in the morning and she deserved her sleep.  His new found habit was watching the earliest conceivable news shows and switch back and forth between them. He had set his mind on becoming a journalist and was acclimating himself. So many years trying to just disconnect and he suddenly found himself trying to catch up. The TV was only audible to him; he stopped at a particular news channel after the mention Lex Luthor. He knew that Lois was preparing a piece about him and was well aware of his less than benevolent corporate policies but what really caught his attention that his public name was being compared against him.

**“Can you show me Superman’s birth certificate? YOU CAN’T!” Gordon Godfrey said too excited for his own good.**

**“We’ve got plenty of red blooded Americans perfectly able to call themselves heroes!” Carl Thomas replied with less enthusiasm. Clark’s eyebrow was raised, somehow both men had either stopped talking about the whole planet or simply assumed America encompassed the world.**

**“Can we even say that Superman’s blood is even red?” That was Godfrey’s idea of a punch-line. Clark’s face was contorted into a frown but even then he kept listening. “Let’s forget about the ‘Super’ in his name and focus on the ‘man’ which he clearly is not. He is the ultimate illegal alien. He’s been passing for human his whole life!”**

**“And that’s not even the real issue here, Gordon.”**

“Do tell me what the real issue is.” Clark muttered to himself as quietly as possible.

**“Everyone’s hailing this ‘man’ as the savior of the planet. But the reality of the situation is that he killed one of his own kind! A fellow Martian or whatever the heck they came from. Imagine what he could do to _us.”_**

**_“_ Right and how do we know that he didn’t kill this General Zod in a struggle for control of this planet? Or it was a strategic kill designed to fool us into thinking he’s our ‘friend’?” Godfrey looked too pleased with himself. It was amazing how this junk was allowed to hit the public. **

Clark couldn’t deny that those words, as ridiculous as they were, did hit him hard across the chest.  It felt just like the many times he let Whitney Forrester push him to the ground.  He switched to a different channel, even if it was just the weather report for the weekend. It was possibly the worst thing he had ever heard; they brought back old insecurities. He had spent most of his life on this planet wanting more than anything to be human but knowing full well that he wasn’t. Running away every time anyone attempted to get close, afraid that they’d figure him out. But he was done running; he was as much human as he was Kryptonian. Clark knew that if he trusted people they would return the same kind of faith; Lois was undisputable proof of that. He hadn’t fully given himself to the world; it was time to change that.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The night was reaching its darkest time and Clark was sitting at the kitchen table staring at the screen on his mom’s laptop, which had been barely used and was a little too old. They had visited his father’s grave today; he saw the greatness in him she told him. Clark grabbed her hand and told her about his plans of moving to Metropolis and working at a paper, preferably the Planet. That way he could keep his ear to the ground without giving rise to suspicion, he explained. Martha laughed lightly and rubbed his arm, she was thinking about Lois. “Well teachers always said you wrote beautifully, son. You’ll do just fine.” Was all she said about it; she was never one for over embellishing her words.

As he was awkwardly getting used to the keys under his fingers again the little details of his new life clouded his mind. Apartment listings and especially his non-existent résumé. He had started a literature degree before heading off on his own and his writing needed polishing. He had no experience and knew there was no reason why Perry White should hire him as a reporter. This is where the need for Superman to address the World and for Clark’s necessity for a paying reporting job. His ticket into the Planet was Superman’s first exclusive interview.  This piece had to be amazing; Superman’s name and his life at Metropolis depended on it.

It was a bit strange at first; the whole thing seemed like a psychological/existential exercise.  Getting past the oddness of it was easy as he started treating it as a therapeutic device. It felt great to be able to question his actions and find the reason behind them. As he wrote into the night he began falling in love with writing again and became incredibly attached to his self-interview. There was one section of it he read over and over again, without really correcting any of it. It was his pride and joy.

 **CK:** _Since you first appeared there have been some people calling into question your motives. What do you say to that?_

_Superman hesitates and masks it with a small sigh. It seems as if it is not the first time he has heard this question._

**_S_ ** _: I understand where they’re coming from; I can imagine what it’s like to suddenly discover that you’re not alone in the universe. Trust me; I have felt that same weight when I discovered the very same thing. But I have no hidden agenda, what you see is what you get. The reality of things is that I’m more human than Kryptonian._

 **_CK:_ ** _“Kryptonian?”_

 **_S_ ** _: “Yeah.” He laughs faintly. “I’m from a planet called Krypton. It vanished long ago, from what I understand. Many Thousands of our years.”_

 **_CK:_ ** _“Krypton, is this the same planet General Zod served?”_

_His expression is grim, as pang of guilt has washed over him. I realize my question is rhetorical but that is not what bothers him._

**_S_ ** _: “Yes, he did what he thought was right for his plane, awfully misguided as it was. He was the orchestrator of failed coup and for that, he and the soldiers that arrived on Earth, were imprisoned. Zod was driven mad by Krypton’s inevitable destruction.”_

_I was afraid we may have gotten a bit side-tracked even my curiosity about his home planet’s history was gnawing at me, there more important and pressing questions._

**_CK:_ ** _“Clearly, you couldn’t be more different than Zod.” He smiles weakly, shame covering his face. I don’t dare ask him about General Zod’s death. At least not yet. “But the question still stands, why are you here?”_

 **_S_ ** _: “Frankly, Mr. Kent…”_

 **_CK_ ** _: “Clark, please.” Suddenly I feel guilty for cutting him off._

 **_S_ ** _: “Clark, I’ve been asking myself that very same question my entire life. I didn’t get my answer until some weeks ago. My father always said I was sent here for a reason that I owed it to myself to find out what it was. Krypton was dying and my Kryptonian parents wanted me to make a better world than theirs. That’s why they sent me here.”_

_**CK** : “Is that why you put on the suit?”_

_**S:** “Yeah. It’s my responsibility to build on that hope. It is my duty as an adoptive son of Earth to do what I can to protect it. It’s the least I can do.” _

Clark was pleased with himself; the same sort of excitement that rushed through his veins when he flew was present here. He checked for typos once again and re-aligned the text before sending it to Perry White’s email (he had memorized it from the many warnings he saw in Lois’s inbox every time she checked her email on the couch).  He took a deep breath and sent it. It was good enough for him; he hoped it was good enough for Perry White.

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Who the hell is this guy?” Perry White said to himself as he read through a Superman exclusive that had been sent to him.  It seemed suspicious at first, but this Clark Kent had somehow gotten his work email and sent him a one on one with Superman himself, along with quick commentary assuring him that it was genuine.  All he asked was for an interview for a job at the Planet. It seemed reasonable and after all he did manage to beat Lois Lane to the punch. He couldn’t begin to picture how, and that alone deserved at least a video conference. Perry replied back and scheduled a video call for the next day.

“Morning, Clark.” He opened as he examined Clark Kent. His hair was shabby and resembled a nest and his oversized glasses took up most of his face. He seemed anxious.

“Morning Mr. White.” Yes, he could detect nervousness in his voice and he seemed like the kind that would be more at ease referring to him as ‘Mr. White.’ “I just sent you my résumé.”

“All right, Clark. How in the hell did you manage to interview Superman? When the rest of the world only catches glimpses of him?” He was calmed and wasted no time. Perry tried to get a good read on Kent and his résumé. There was practically nothing on it; just a few classes at a Kansas community college and some writing credits for its newspaper. 

“Let’s just say he owed me a favor.” He detected a thread of confidence but not too much of it. Maybe he was overwhelmed by what was at stake during this interview. Perhaps he was worried about his nearly empty CV.

“Protecting the world’s most famous source. Don’t know exactly know from what, but you have integrity, I’ll give you that.” He replied wondering in what kind of world Superman would owe some scruffy looking guy a favour. But he’d accept that, for the time being.

“Thank you.” He said politely. “How did you like my piece?”

“You write well, Clark. It read honest and there is a genuine respect for the audience.” Perry cleared his throat. “I liked it. And of course we’ll print it…”

“That’s great!” He said excitedly as he readjusted his glasses.

“But considering the résumé you just sent me, I can’t exactly put you on staff at the Planet.”

“Oh?” It looked like the whole world was crashing down on him.

“I _can_ put you on as a stringer. You wouldn’t be part of the regular staff; you’d get paid by piece. Anyone who can score this big for his first article and write it well deserves a shot.”

“That’s…that’s amazing.” He was clearly stunned beyond belief. “Thank you, Mr. White.”

“Can you be at the Planet by Monday?”

“Yeah, definitely!” Kent was clearly excited. His nerves were forgotten by Perry’s news.

“See you on Monday, Clark.”

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
